


Back

by Cookie



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-21
Updated: 2014-03-21
Packaged: 2018-01-16 13:01:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,598
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1348369
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cookie/pseuds/Cookie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Arthur comes back from war to his husband Merlin and their 1 year old baby boy. Merlin has been helped by Gwaine. War has changed Arthur and everyone in his life struggles to work out what is wrong and how they can help him.</p>
            </blockquote>





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**Author's Note:**

> This story is written from different points of view and you are not meant to learn everything that has happened to Arthur! Sallyna_smile provided the wonderful art http://postimg.org/image/fer1hnr8j/ - go tell her how great it is!

**Wilfred Gibson (1878-1962) "Back"**

They ask me where I've been,  
And what I've done and seen.  
But what can I reply  
Who know it wasn't I,  
But someone just like me,  
Who went across the sea  
And with my head and hands  
Killed men in foreign lands...  
Though I must bear the blame,  
Because he bore my name.  


**Before**

“Who’s Daddy’s big boy, then?”

Merlin paused at the door of the nursery and grinned at the sight of his husband as Arthur worked on changing their son’s nappy. Joshua was hovering on the edge of his usual hysterics; he usually cried when he was being changed, and only constant attention could ever distract Joshua long enough to get the deed done. It worked about half the time, and this looked like one of the lucky occasions as Arthur deftly fitted the new nappy and Joshua kicked his legs in the air and giggled.

“All done?” Merlin asked.

“Almost there,” Arthur replied and the romper suit was slipped on a beaming Joshua, and he giggled again when Arthur picked him up and swung him high above his head. “Look, here’s Poppa,” Arthur said as he turned towards Merlin, making noises like an aeroplane as he flew Joshua into Merlin’s arms.

Merlin laughed as he took possession of Joshua, settling the eight month old on his hip and reaching out to hook a hand round Arthur’s neck to pull him in for a sweet, lingering kiss.

“You don’t have long,” Merlin warned, and swallowed the lump in his throat at the thought of Arthur leaving. He managed a close approximation of his usual sunny smile, but knew Arthur could see through the pretence. He always could.

“I know.” Automatically, Arthur made sure his uniform was tidy before he reached out and enfolded Merlin and Joshua in a gentle embrace. “It’s a nine month tour, Merlin. It’ll be over before we know it.”

“I know you have to go, I do. I just wish we’d had more time together with Joshua before your next tour.” Merlin swallowed all the other words that were racing through his mind, the demands to stay and the pleas not to go, but they were there, hanging in the air between them. Never before had he felt their parting so acutely, holding onto the little boy who had entered their lives and had turned them from a couple into a family. His family. He stared at Arthur and knew everything he was thinking and feeling was obvious on his too-expressive features.

Arthur kissed him deeply and then buried his face in the crook of Merlin’s neck.

“Are you sniffing me?” Merlin didn’t know whether to be touched or alarmed by the thought.

Arthur met his eyes then, his own a brighter blue than usual and Merlin rushed into speech. “I put a t shirt of mine in your pack.”

“You didn’t wash it, did you?”

“No,” Merlin managed to crack a half-smile.

Reluctantly, Arthur disentangled himself from his family. “I have to go, love.”

“I know. You come back to me.”

“All in one piece?”

“I don’t much care,” Merlin said. “As long as you come home.”

There was time for one more desperate kiss and then Arthur was picking up his kit and leaving. Merlin stood at the door, managing to smile and wave once Arthur had stowed his gear in the car that had come to fetch him, staying strong until Arthur was out of sight, before a great sob tore through him. 

Merlin swallowed hard, refusing to give into the tears, refusing to let the sense of panic and loss overwhelm him. It was always bad when Arthur went on active duty, but now they had started their family, it seemed even worse. 

“Okay, Joshua, my lad. It must be time for your dinner.” Blinking back the tears, Merlin began singing as he carried Joshua inside and shut the door.

 

**

 

**Now**

Joshua squealed in glee, tottering away from Merlin towards Gwaine’s outstretched arms. Gwaine caught him just before Joshua pitched forward, and he swung him high. Merlin spared them a fond look before returning his attention to the doors. They were surrounded by an excited crowd, the great hanger full of the families and loved ones of the regiment. It had been nine months and Merlin was desperate to see Arthur for himself, to be reassured that he was in one piece. Merlin was grateful for Gwaine’s supportive presence, glad that he could take the brunt of keeping Joshua amused while Merlin was so distracted. The chatter tailed off at the sounds of movement from the other side of the great doors and everyone watched as they rolled open and daylight could be seen on the other side.

When the doors were fully open, the men marched in, their formation perfect and every step crisp and full of pride. It was not so much a cheer that rose from the waiting crowd, more an audible outpouring of relief from spouses, children, parents; family.

Merlin stared at the marching men, searching the columns for the form of his husband and suddenly his heart leapt to his throat as Merlin saw Arthur in the flesh for the first time in close to a year. Tears rushed to his eyes and he brought his clenched fist to his mouth to stop him from shouting out Arthur’s name.

The men lined up and were dismissed and Merlin lost sight of Arthur in the sudden melee of reunions and milling people. He walked through the crowd until suddenly Arthur was there in front of him. Merlin stepped forward, and Arthur looped an arm around Merlin’s shoulders and reeled him in. Merlin couldn’t help the sob that escaped him as he pressed his face against Arthur’s neck and breathed in his scent.

It was some time before Merlin was willing to let Arthur go, and it seemed that Arthur was feeling much the same if his iron grip around Merlin was anything to judge by. Arthur's face was buried in his neck and he was taking great breaths of air, as if he was trying to soak up Merlin's scent.

Eventually, though, they pulled back and Merlin grinned at Arthur. “I’m so glad you’re home.”

“Me, too.” Arthur's eyes were bright and a smile hovered around his mouth.

There was silence between them for a moment and Merlin ignored the fact that the quiet was not the comfortable silence of old.

“Come on and see how Joshua’s grown.” Merlin said, wondering why Arthur had not asked about their son already.

Arthur nodded without much enthusiasm and they worked their way through the happy, laughing families towards the spot where Gwaine stood with Joshua held safely in his arms. Merlin felt rather than saw the way Arthur’s footsteps suddenly faltered.

“I told you Gwaine had moved in to help with Joshua, didn’t I,” he said. “He’s been a real support and when his lease was up it seemed sensible for him to move in for a while.”

“You said.”

Merlin grinned at Arthur, trying to shrug off the faint sense of unease. “Look, Joshua, here’s Daddy.” Merlin stood to one side and watch the unfolding of an awkward reunion. Joshua was shy but Arthur didn’t attempt to speak directly to him or take him from Gwaine’s arms, simply nodding at Gwaine.

“Thanks for helping Merlin out, “ Arthur said.

Arthur was interrupted by one of his men and quickly joined a group of soldiers exchanging goodbyes. Merlin tried not to be disappointed by Arthur’s reaction or dismayed by the obvious relief with which Arthur turned away. Instead, he smiled at Gwaine, ignoring his friend's worried look and reached out to take Joshua who was beginning to fret with all the noise. 

They managed to make it to the car before Joshua kicked off in earnest, beginning to wail. Merlin saw a spasm of some undefined emotion cross Arthur’s features, which then settled into a frown.

“He’s a tired boy, aren’t you, Joshua. Why don’t you take him, Arthur?” Merlin said.

“He won’t be used to me. He’s fine with Gwaine.” So saying, Arthur tossed his bag into the boot and settled himself into the passenger seat of the car, leaving Gwaine and Merlin to settle Joshua in his car seat and calm him as much as possible. 

The journey home was completed in almost total silence, once Gwaine’s quiet voice along with the motion of the car lulled Joshua into sleep.

It wasn’t the first time Merlin and Arthur had been parted while Arthur was on active duty, and it hadn’t been his first tour of duty in this campaign either, but for the first time Merlin didn’t know how to talk to his husband and couldn’t find the words to break through the taut, icy reserve that seemed to surround Arthur.

**

When they got home, Gwaine took one look at them and carried Joshua inside, leaving Merlin and Arthur to follow. Merlin shivered a little as Arthur placed a hand in the small of his back as he ushered Merlin into the house, desperate for Arthur’s touch.

They stood in the lounge for a moment, and the sound of Gwaine singing a nonsense song to an accompaniment of Joshua’s giggles was a counterpoint to the heavy silence. Despite the fact Arthur had just spent nine months on the other side of the world, Merlin had never felt a distance like he felt now with both of them in the same room.

“I’m going to shower and change.” 

It was an abrupt sentence and Arthur had left the room before Merlin even had time to respond. For a moment, he stood there, unsure about what to do before he followed Arthur to the bedroom and paused in the doorway.

Arthur had hauled some of his kit out of his pack, obviously looking for something particular and Merlin was about to comment on the unusual messiness when something caught his eye. The t-shirt he'd placed in Arthur’s pack the day he left hadn’t been new, but it had at least been whole. In amongst the garments that had obviously been pristinely folded before being spilled out of the bag, the remnant of the t-shirt was a shocking contrast. Dirty, stained, crumpled and torn, it told a story Merlin wasn't sure Arthur would ever tell him. All Merlin knew was that it wasn’t likely to be good.

“Just as well I didn’t want to wear that again,” he said, and reached out to pick it up.

Arthur grabbed it before he could and shoved it back in the bag. He shrugged but otherwise didn’t respond directly to the comment. Instead, he picked up his wash kit and headed to the en-suite.

“Need any help washing your back?” Merlin asked, and wondered if his faux grin was hiding his worry.

Arthur looked at him and for a moment his own mask faltered, but before he could speak, Gwaine’s voice filtered through the house calling for Merlin. Merlin was distracted and turned slightly. By the time he turned back, Arthur had gone and the only sound was the snick of the lock being turned on the bathroom door.

Merlin wandered through to the kitchen, slumping into a seat at the table and staring wordlessly at Gwaine.

“What’s up, Merlin?” Gwaine pressed a hand to Merlin’s shoulder, conveying his sympathy.

Merlin wasn't sure he knew where to start. “God, Gwaine, I don’t know. He seems so closed off. I’ve never seen him like this.”

“Give him a few days, Merlin – let him get used to being home. At least you know this was his last tour. Another couple of months and he’ll be out of the army and working for his Uncle.”

Merlin managed a weak smile, unable to shake his conviction that something was badly wrong. Reminded about Agravaine, he headed to the phone to let Arthur’s uncle know they were back and to make the final arrangements for the family dinner they’d planned for the following evening.

Arthur had been thrown out by his father when he was only fifteen and had come out to Uther as gay. At that point Arthur hadn’t even known he’d any other relatives and told Merlin he’d gone to the only other person he felt he could talk to. During one long night early in their relationship Arthur had talked freely and openly about this point in his life and Merlin remembered it now. Gaius had told Arthur more about his mother, Ygraine, than he’d ever heard from his father and before he’d realised what that meant, he was being introduced to the uncle he’d never met. Agravaine had stepped in gladly, accepting Arthur into his home and treating him more like a son than Uther ever had. His wife, Helen, had been unable to have children and her obvious delight at Arthur’s presence in their lives had begun to heal a wound in Arthur that he told Merlin he hadn’t even known existed. Merlin recalled the pleasure with which Agravaine and Helen had welcomed him as Arthur’s boyfriend and how they'd supported them both, never pointing out how young they were to be making the commitments they were so sure about so early in their relationship.

Try as he might, Merlin knew his voice when he spoke to Agravaine didn't come close to his usual upbeat tone. In the past, when Arthur had returned, Merlin had laughed down the phone as the pleasure, love and utter relief had almost overwhelmed him. This time, though, faced with a closed off and silent Arthur, it was as if the worry of the past nine months was intensifying rather than dissipating.

“How is he?” Agravaine couldn’t keep the concern from his voice, obviously picking up enough from Merlin's voice and words to realise something was different this time.

Merlin wanted to cry and swallowed his tears with difficulty. “I don’t know.”

 

**

 

The rest of the evening was strained, and Merlin became more and more concerned by Arthur’s reaction to them all, but most specifically Joshua. It seemed as if Arthur was going out of his way to limit interaction with his son, he was off-hand and dismissive of Gwaine and reacted with what felt like thinly veiled hostility to anything Merlin said. In the end they all lapsed into an uncomfortable silence and Merlin pretended not to notice that Arthur was rearranging the food on his plate, rather than eating it.

As Merlin half-heartedly loaded the dishwasher later, Gwaine wandered in and dumped the remaining plates on the worktop.

“Give him time, Merlin. Just give him some time.”

By the time Merlin made it back to the lounge, Arthur was heading for bed and passed Merlin without a word. Merlin swallowed hard and resisted the urge to run after him and demand to be told what the hell was going on. Walking steadily across to the sofa he switched on the television, managing to smile as Gwaine settled into one of the armchairs. He had no idea what they were watching, but he was grateful for Gwaine’s solid, supportive silence.

Eventually, Merlin slipped through the bedroom and into the en-suite. When he'd washed and brushed his teeth he slid naked into the bed, and pressed his body against Arthur’s. Despite Arthur's coldness that evening, Merlin hadn't been able to forget the desperate strength of Arthur's first touch when they's reunited. It had lit a slow-burning fire in Merlin that not even the unknown difficulties they were facing could quench. He hadn't seen Arthur for nine months and he craved his touch. 

For a moment, Arthur was tense and then he turned, looming over Merlin and taking his mouth in a bruising kiss. For Merlin, despite the simmering undercurrent of violence, there was relief that Arthur seemed to want him and he returned the kiss, trying to offer gentleness in return as he ran his hands down Arthur’s trembling torso.

Except the touch seemed to inflame Arthur even further and Merlin was manhandled onto his front, pressing his face into the pillow to stifle his cries as Arthur prepared him, leaving him just short of ready before he was pushing in, grunting with the effort.

Merlin was torn between trying to get him to slow down and the demands of his own body, desperately needing any touch at all from the man he loved. As he gradually became accustomed to Arthur’s girth within him, he gave in to the need and desire, pushing back into each of Arthur’s thrusts and taking heart in the movement of lips against his neck as Arthur whispered his name over and over again.

 

**

The next day was no better, nor the next, nor the next until almost a month had gone by and Merlin was no closer to recognising the man who’d come back to him. Arthur still took as little to do with Joshua as he could, visibly flinching back from any contact, and he left all the parenting to Merlin and to Gwaine. Merlin sighed as he tried to convince Joshua to take one more mouthful of his apple sauce.

Gwaine.

Merlin wasn’t quite sure what he’d have done without Gwaine while Arthur was on tour. It had been hard enough before, being the one left behind to deal with the day to day minutae of life while living in a state of simmering panic at the thought of the person you loved most in the world being in such a dangerous place, but this time with a child…

When Gwaine had moved in it had been a huge relief and Merlin would always be grateful to him, but it was becoming clearer by the day that Arthur wasn’t happy Gwaine was around. It didn't appear that Gwaine had picked up on Arthur's displeasure, or at least he hadn't spoken to Merlin about it so far, but Merlin couldn't believe that it would be long before the whole situation blew up in their faces. 

The only time Merlin felt the least bit close to Arthur was during the night, when Arthur would reach for him and they could both lose themselves in one another for a while. Even then it frightened Merlin sometimes, experiencing a passion that he always felt could so easily slip over into violence. The loving, laughing give and take that had always characterised their sex lives in the past was missing; there was none of the cuddling, silly giggling conversations; the deep conversations when Arthur would say beautiful things that would rob Merlin of his breath. Now, Arthur possessed and Merlin was possessed. Silent. Desperate.

Merlin wasn’t stupid; he woke Arthur from the nightmares; learned the tiny triggers that would switch his mood; saw the restlessness and the obsessive behaviour. In this modern world with all the resources and knowledge at his fingertips, he'd have to be really stupid not to be able to put a name to what he was seeing.

Post Traumatic Stress Disorder.

In his own way, the only ways he could think of, Merlin tried to help. He read everything he could find and tried to talk to Arthur. Every attempt to discuss it with Arthur ended in either anger or cold dismissal; fire or ice. Arthur refused every approach, his response invariably a stonewalling assertion that he was fine. If Merlin tried anything further, he was met either with a burst of temper that came dangerously close to violent, or a cold withdrawal that was almost worse. In the end, it didn’t matter that Merlin could give a name to what was happening to Arthur, because on top of a full-time job, dealing with an increasingly difficult son, and keeping the peace between Gwaine and Arthur, Merlin’s own nerves were fraying badly. Despite his own best efforts, he wasn’t coping and less and less found the calm and the sympathy he knew he needed. Their relationship had always been based on an intimate understanding of one another, which also meant they always knew which buttons to push – and Arthur was pushing all of them with increasing regularity. It was his way of keeping Merlin at bay; obviously trying to avoid any real conversation or interaction. Between the desperation and urgency of their nights and the cold distance of the days, Merlin knew he was close to the end of his tether.

Merlin watched Arthur now, witnessing the meticulous way Arthur was dressing. 

“What’ve you got planned for today?’’ He tried not to phrase it as too much of an enquiry, keeping his tone even and pleasant. He was exhausted at the effort of judging every word. Merlin had been trying to work out whether Arthur was attending any counselling or had even been offered any. This had been his last tour of duty before he left the Army and began working at the family firm. At this point, Merlin had no idea what Arthur was doing with his days, but he knew from Agravaine that he’d yet to show at the office. Every morning, Arthur washed, dressed and left the house at the same time, returning each evening silent and uncommunicative. Every day Agravaine would phone asking whether Arthur was there; his own worry leaching through.

“I’m going out.” 

Merlin swallowed. “Arthur,” he whispered.

Arthur paused in his movements, hands twisting in his tie, turning and sliding the material through his fingers.

“Arthur, please. I'm so afraid. Please talk to me.”

Arthur turned to face him then, and the lost expression, the utter anguish in the blue eyes pushed Merlin into motion. He crossed the room and wrapped his arms around Arthur’s shaking frame, holding as tight as he possibly could. Arthur buried his face against Merlin’s neck.

“Tell me how to help you. There must be something I can do.”

“You do. Merlin, you do help me. I’m sorry –“

The door behind them swung open without warning and Gwaine entered with a crying Joshua in his arms. “Did you get more of that breakfast stuff Josh –.” Gwaine stopped, his features freezing as he witnessed the scene before him.

Arthur broke away from Merlin, his features cold and remote once more as he grabbed his jacket and moved past Gwaine before Merlin had a chance to speak or could put out a hand to try and stop him.

“God, Gwaine, this is our bedroom – knock next time.” It was as much as Merlin could manage, not wanting to vent his anger at Gwaine when Joshua was there. As it was, his son obviously picked up the tense atmosphere as his features crumbled and eyes filled with tears.

“Oh, Joshua, baby. Come here.” Merlin took Joshua from Gwaine and hushed him, talking gentle nonsense and feeling some of his own frantic worry ease just a little with his boy in his arms.

“Sorry,” Gwaine said and at his obvious contrition Merlin shook his head.

“It’s okay. Sorry I snapped at you.” Merlin didn't think he had ever felt so tired or so dispirited in his entire life.

“You’re right, though. I’ll be more careful. Where’s Arthur gone?”

Merlin was sure Gwaine didn't mean to make things worse with his question, even if it hurt to answer. “I’ve no idea. No idea at all.”

 

**

 

Gwaine watched Arthur when he finally returned during the evening, and wondered how long it would be before Arthur broke. Gwaine could admit the underlying jealousy that had run through his relationship with Arthur since they had met. It was Gwaine who'd known Merlin first and he'd loved him almost as long as he’d known him. For once in his young, slapdash life he’d been taking his time, recognising Merlin wasn’t the type to be appreciative of Gwaine’s usual full on style of seduction. They'd met during their first year at University and they might have become a couple if it hadn’t been for a chance encounter with a group of squaddies. In the midst of a tense situation Arthur had appeared like some avenging angel and Gwaine had watched with a sinking heart as Merlin fell in love.

For ten years, Gwaine had played the role of best friend, taking the jokes about his profligate lifestyle with a laugh and a toss of his head, occasionally drinking himself into a stupor just to try and take the edge off a loneliness that seemed to never ease. If he felt Arthur loved Merlin as much as Gwaine did then perhaps he could’ve accepted the situation with more grace, but Arthur was always reserved and their friends rarely saw Arthur and Merlin even hold hands in public or cuddle together during a movie night or party. For the first few years Gwaine had waited and expected them to break up. He intended being there to pick up the pieces. Instead, they’d moved in together, had entered into a Civil Partnership, had adopted a child. Through it all, Arthur had his army career and Merlin had forged his own career in marketing, eventually taking up a job with Agravaine’s company. 

Gwaine had thought it was almost a gift from the Gods when his landlord had decided to sell his flat and Merlin had offered their spare room in return for help with Joshua. It wasn’t the first time Merlin had been left while Arthur was on a tour, but it was the first with Joshua and Merlin had been close to the end of his tether by the time Gwaine had arrived. He wasn’t proud of himself at the way he’d set out to integrate himself into their lives, but he was damned if he wasn’t going to take the opportunity fate had presented to him. He’d never deliberately try to break them up, and he knew Merlin was not the type to be unfaithful, but Gwaine was done with sitting on the sidelines and moping.

For the moment, he busied himself getting Joshua ready for bed. Another reason to try and win Merlin from Arthur was the fact he’d lost his heart to this little boy, too. Gwaine wanted what Arthur seemed to be in the process of throwing away. So he splashed at Joshua in the bath, getting him to giggle and splash in return. A noise had him turning, though he retained his hold on the small boy. Arthur was standing in the doorway, his expression cold and aloof as he stared at them, though for a moment Gwaine was sure he’d seen another, softer emotion there.

“Are you nearly finished?” Arthur asked. “I’d like to take a shower.” There was another bathroom in the house, but Gwaine had taken to bathing Joshua in the en-suite to Arthur and Merlin’s bedroom.

“Five minutes. I should imagine you would want to shower. I expect you’ve had a busy day. What’ve you been up to?”

“As you say. I’ve been busy.”

Arthur’s eyes narrowed for a moment before he turned and left.

Gwaine let out a sigh and returned his attention to Joshua, lifting him from the bath and wrapping one of the fluffy towels Joshua loved around the little boy. The look Arthur had cast at him before he left the room left him feeling as if every one of his earlier thoughts were written all over his face.

 

**

 

Merlin glanced up as Arthur entered the room and flinched at the expression on his face.

“Is something wrong?”

“How long is Gwaine going to be hanging around?”

“What do you mean?”

“Arthur raised an eyebrow, as if Merlin was being spectacularly stupid. Merlin knew that expression and it was usually a precursor to either a bout of teasing or a fight. Somehow he knew this was not the former.

Merlin felt the warm colour wash his skin, a mix of annoyance and embarrassment and worked hard to swallow the angry words on the tip of his tongue. “We haven’t discussed it.”

“Perhaps you should.”

“What?”

“Really, Merlin, how oblivious can you be?”

“What are you talking about, Arthur?”

In response, Arthur turned and faced Gwaine as he entered the lounge, a towel-swathed Joshua in his arms.

"You feel at home here, don’t you, Gwaine? With _my_ husband. With _my_ son.”

Merlin felt his jaw drop as he finally understood what Arthur was driving at.

“Arthur, don’t be ridiculous. Gwaine’s one of our best friends.”

“No – he’s _your_ best friend, Merlin. He never was too keen on me – I was never good enough for you.”

There was a sudden thread of doubt in Arthur’s voice and Merlin rushed into speech. “Well, that’s just –“

Merlin’s attention was distracted for an instant then, looking towards Gwaine and surprising an expression on his face that Merlin recognised and knew he’d seen before. Arthur was right. He’d been completely oblivious.

Fuck.

And now Arthur, with one question, had stripped away the comfortable little bubble he’d been living in – almost since the moment they met. Arthur must’ve known from the start but had never said; he’d allowed Merlin his happy belief that he had his lover while retaining his best friend. Merlin had been unwilling to acknowledge even for a second how Gwaine felt about him, because if Merlin accepted that, there were all sorts of awkward and difficult issues to face.

“Gwaine.” There were ten years of regret loaded into the way Merlin said his friend’s name; even he could hear it and Merlin saw Gwaine flinch, though Gwaine’s attention was on Arthur and he was holding Joshua so hard the boy was starting to squirm. When Joshua let out a short, affronted cry, Gwaine’s attention snapped back.

“Sorry, baby, let’s get you to bed.” And he turned towards Joshua’s bedroom, pausing as he reached Arthur and the two men exchanged a look. Gwaine’s shoulders dropped a little and with a sharp nod, he left the room.

Merlin stared at Arthur as another, terrible, thought occurred. “Arthur, you don’t think…?” It was too awful to contemplate and he felt a shiver run through him, surely Arthur couldn’t believe he’d been unfaithful?

Arthur’s cold aloofness faltered and was swept away by a lost, bewildered expression that had Merlin aching to hold him; to try and soothe away everything that was troubling him.

“No, Merlin, I know you wouldn’t – “

Gwaine interrupted them then and Merlin cursed internally, realising only then that Arthur would never open up to him while Gwaine was around and he wondered if he’d been using that subconscious knowledge to protect himself from dealing with whatever Arthur was going through. In that moment, he really didn’t like himself at all. He drew in a deep breath and tried to accept his own frailties and move on, because right now it was Arthur who was important. Merlin wasn’t sure how he’d cope with Joshua on his own, because Arthur’s avoidance of contact with his son was just as pronounced now as when he’d returned. Well, there were plenty of working mothers out there, and plenty of single mothers and fathers, so he would have to learn rather than what he now realised had been his default position – relying on Gwaine to help him out. Merlin wasn’t one who found it easy to hide what he was feeling and knew his expression was acknowledging everything he’d spent so long denying. He hadn’t been fair to any of them; but most of all, he hadn’t been fair to Gwaine.

Gwaine was staring at them, as if he was having an unpleasant epiphany of his own, and Arthur moved closer to Merlin, his stance radiating the simmering sense of underlying violence. Merlin curled his hand round Arthur’s and squeezed, breaking through the tension as Arthur looked at him, his whole demeanour suddenly relaxing, and in that moment Merlin saw his husband, saw the Arthur he remembered. For the first time since Arthur had returned, Merlin felt a surge of hope and relief.

When Merlin turned his attention back to Gwaine, he saw that his own hope had generated the corollary in Gwaine. Merlin didn’t know what to say.

Yet again, Gwaine came to his rescue.

“Guess I’ve overstayed my welcome. Give me a couple of weeks and I’ll get somewhere else sorted out.”

“Gwaine.” It was a poor thank you, Merlin thought, to be virtually throwing him out like this.

“No, Merlin,” Gwaine was as serious as Merlin had ever seen him. “Arthur’s right, even if I hate to admit it. The two of you need to get back to normal – and I’m not helping, am I?”

There didn’t seem to be anything left to say, and they went their separate ways.

For the first time since Arthur returned, his lovemaking that night had an element of tenderness and care. Afterwards, Merlin held Arthur in his arms, listening to slurred words of love and apology, and he hoped.

By morning, Arthur had retreated back to his now normal icy reserve and for a few moments, in the still emptiness of their bedroom, Merlin wept bitter tears.

 

**

Agravaine DuBois glanced over at the man he always referred to as his son-in-law and frowned at the dark circles under Merlin’s eyes. The poor boy looked exhausted. Two months had passed since Gwaine had moved out and Merlin was looking increasingly frayed at the edges. Merlin had confided in him what had happened, and Agravaine knew Merlin had taken on all the childcare duties once Gwaine left, as if he was offering some sort of penance. As soon as he'd heard, Agravaine had quickly mentioned that Helen would be delighted to help out and, considering Merlin worked for Agravaine and Agravaine owned the blessed company, it wasn’t as if he couldn’t arrange to work shorter hours or take time when he needed it. Even from the start of their relationship, Agravaine acknowledged, both boys had expressed a need to earn whatever they had, and had demonstrated a fierce independence and determination not to rely on anyone else - certainly not financially and seldom for anything else. Agravaine could admit now that he’d always been slightly concerned at Gwaine’s presence in their lives, though even now he hadn’t mentioned it to them. From the start Agravaine had recognised Gwaine's attraction to Merlin, and knew Arthur was aware of it, too, even if Merlin seemed totally oblivious. Still, he couldn’t deny that Gwaine had been wonderful with Joshua and a huge help to Merlin. 

Agravaine’s thoughts turned to Arthur. None of them had managed to get to the bottom of his current situation; they weren’t sure whether he’d been formally discharged from the army, as he’d come to the end of his term of service; they didn’t know if he was on sick leave, or if he was under any form of medical supervision. In this era of personal rights, no-one would discuss Arthur’s well-being with them without Arthur’s consent and the various support groups and charities they’d approached seemed unable to help. Merlin was exhausted and becoming increasingly short-tempered, something Agravaine had never associated with him in the past.

A memory surfaced: the day Gaius had brought him a scared, defiant fifteen year old boy and told him Ygraine’s son needed him. Arthur had been blunt, declaring his homosexuality in a way that told more than he ever knew; obviously expecting to be rejected just as his own father had rejected him. Agravaine had looked him in the eye and told him exactly how much it meant to himself and his wife to have a chance to know Arthur and to welcome him into their lives.

He’d never understood Uther; never understood how his sister could love the man so completely, could never understand what led Uther to cut every tie with Ygraine’s family after her death, refusing them any contact or access to Arthur; and he’d never, ever understand how a man could reject his own child. He and Helen adored Arthur, and had told him repeatedly that they considered him their son. It hadn't been easy. Being brought up by Uther had left scars on Arthur that Agravaine believed would never completely heal, leaving Arthur reticent and struggling to demonstrate any emotion. Agravaine suspected that some of the issues they were facing with him now had their roots in those early years. Both Agravaine and Helen were openly affectionate, but it had taken a long time before Arthur had not flinched when they hugged or touched him. And even longer before he could relax and return physical affection. It was Merlin's arrival in their lives that had made all the difference. With Merlin, Arthur had found an ease and warmth that had thawed something deep within him. It was only Merlin who would be able to reach him now, Agravaine was certain of that. 

Arthur had been a self-contained, quiet boy, passionate only about joining the army. He’d worked hard, been sponsored by the army through university, had attended Sandhurst and loved every moment of it in his own quiet way. Agravaine and Helen had attended his passing out parade, watching him lead it as the top cadet and they’d almost burst with pride.

On a visit with some of his platoon to work with the OTC at his former University, Arthur had interrupted a stand off between his men and some students. Arthur had sent his men off and then following what he later described as a frank exchange of views with the students, had ended up talking to Merlin for the rest of the night.

Merlin - Agravaine and Helen agreed after meeting him for the first time - was the best thing that could have happened for Arthur. Gone was the quiet reserve; Merlin seemed to spark something in Arthur, lending him ebullience and a fire that had been missing. They fell in love quickly and hard, and even though Merlin was still young, eighteen when they met, and Arthur was only a few years older, there’d never been any doubt that their future lay together.

One of Agravaine’s most precious memories was the first time he had, with great delight, introduced his son and his son-in-law at a company function. 

A pair of arms encircled him and Helen asked, “What’s troubling you – or do I know already?” She slid around him until she could look up into his face. “You said you’d try and talk to him?”

He leaned down and kissed her forehead and the tip of her nose, smiling fondly. “I’ve arranged to see him at home this morning. I have to try something.” All his earlier attempts to talk to Arthur had been politely stonewalled with a stock response of “I’m fine” but seeing Merlin’s patent exhaustion and anxiety that morning had stiffened his resolve to try and break through Arthur’s reserve.

“Take care, love.” Helen said.

“Thanks. I think I might need it.”

 

**

 

When Merlin arrived home with Joshua, he knew immediately something was wrong. For a start, Arthur was home when he usually ensured that bedtime for Joshua was well underway before he got in. Today he was sitting, silent and morose, on the sofa, and was nursing a glass of scotch. The look he cast at Merlin when he walked in made Merlin shiver. 

The evening was tense and Merlin couldn’t help but dally over Joshua’s bedtime ritual, sitting with the storybook open in his lap long after Joshua had drifted off to sleep. Merlin gazed down at him, the love in his heart and the lump of sorrow in his throat combining to almost choke him. He shut his eyes and took a deep breath, digging down into depleted reserves to try and find the calm understanding he’d need.

Arthur stood as Merlin entered the lounge, his blue eyes like ice.

“You’ve been talking behind my back – telling Agravaine and Helen that I’m losing it.” Arthur said.

“I’ve certainly spoken to them about you. We’re all worried about you, surely you realise that? When people love you they worry and they talk.”

“You shouldn’t have asked him to talk to me. I felt like a fool.”

“I didn’t ask him.”

Their voices were gradually rising; Arthur in anger and Merlin in frustration.

“I don’t believe you.”

“When have I _ever_ lied to you?” Merlin asked. “Tell me. Give me one single time I’ve ever told you a lie.” He was barely hanging onto his temper; months of unremitting worry and bone-aching weariness leaching away his ability to keep a clear head.

“How can I be sure? How do I know that you and Gwaine didn’t – “

“You _bastard_. I can’t believe you said that. How could you?”

“Why not? He’d be better for you. I should leave you to him.” 

To Merlin’s horror, Arthur grabbed his jacket and moved with a determined stride towards the front door. In his fright and anger, Merlin shouted.  
“You walk out of here don’t you bother coming back!”

It was meant to stop Arthur, to get him to pause and reconsider, but he should’ve realised how Arthur would take it.

Arthur stopped, his fingers wrapped around the door handle. Distant and cold, Arthur said. “I’ll talk to a solicitor in the morning. You can have the house. Let Agravaine know when you’ll be out and I’ll arrange to collect my stuff.”

“Don’t you dare, don’t you dare leave.”

Arthur hesitated. “I wish you all the best, Merlin. You deserve it.” He was over the threshold and gone before Merlin could take another breath.

“God damnit,” Merlin grabbed his coat and made to go after him before realising he couldn’t possibly leave Joshua alone. In a flurry of movement, he rushed into Joshua’s room, grabbed him blankets and all, picked up keys and phone and was out the door. He didn’t think it could’ve taken him more than a minute, but by the time he made it onto the street, Arthur was gone.

 

**

 

Elyan looked up from his endless struggle with the pub’s accounts when there was a brief knock at the door and his head barman stuck his head into the room.

“Sorry to bother you, boss, but there’s a bloke out here – and we’re worried about him.”

Elyan frowned. His staff all knew his background, and more than one had told him there was an element of masochism in an ex-soldier suffering from PTSD taking over the pub his father had built up. Thanks to excellent therapy and plenty of time, he only had occasional bad days, although he usually tried to avoid being behind the bar when it was at its busiest and loudest.

So if his staff were asking for his presence, it meant they had a really good reason.

“What’s the problem, Dave?”

Dave Elliot had been his father’s head barman and Elyan had been more than happy to keep him on. Another ex-soldier with experience in Northern Ireland rather than Iraq, he'd a nose for trouble and an ability to defuse tense situations. Dave had also been witness to Elyan’s struggles, keeping the business running during those periods when all Elyan seemed able to do was sit and shiver.

Dave had amazing tact with customers, but with people he knew and cared about, he could be incredibly blunt.

“He’s reminding me of you, that’s the problem – you about eight years ago.”

“Army?”

“That’s my guess.”

“Is he causing trouble?”

“No – morose and trying to get drunk.”

“Trying?”

“He asked for a bottle of whisky – I still had the special one so I gave him that.”

Elyan nearly laughed aloud at that. He’d been mortified when he’d learned that Dave had ensured that after a certain point on the nights Elyan tried to drown his sorrows in drink, the whisky offered was heavily watered. His judgement was always impeccable, doing the switch when Elyan was too drunk to notice but not yet over the top.

“I’ll come and talk to him.”

When Elyan walked into the lounge he immediately spotted the individual Dave had described. The blond man was sitting at the bar and, despite the busy evening, there was a clearly demarcated space around him as he turned the tumbler of whisky restlessly on the bar counter. Elyan was mesmerised himself for a second watching the golden liquid shimmer in the light as it trembled in the glass. Elyan recognised the army haircut, the way the man held himself despite everything obviously weighing on him, but even more than that there was something in the way he was staring into space, eyes glassy and unfocussed. There was a phone on the counter, too and every so often it would light up with an incoming call, and every time the man reached out and stabbed savagely at it, cutting off the call.

With a deep breath, Elyan stepped into that emptiness and took the seat next to him.

“Afghanistan?” Elyan asked.

The man drew in a swift, shocked breath and the liquid in the glass moved, reflecting the sudden increase in tension.

“None of your business.” 

The phone beeped indicating an incoming text.

Elyan shrugged and signalled Dave, accepting the glass that arrived with a smile of thanks. Even with the switch to watered whisky – and Elyan made a mental note to refund the man before the pub lost its licence – it was clear the man had still managed to get to a fairly decent level of drunkenness.

“Name’s Elyan Smith. I own the pub – before that I was fourteen years with the Royal Signallers.”

“Scaleys.” His companion chortled, as if something had amused him.

The phone beeped again.

“Sounds like someone’s trying very hard to get hold of you? Wife? Girlfriend?”

The glass was lifted and a generous swallow taken. With deliberation he reached for the bottle and dumped another healthy measure into the glass.

“Husband,” he said, with relish.

“Ah,” Despite the fact times had changed, there still weren’t that many openly gay and out men in the British Army, and even less of those were married. Elyan had retained enough friends and interest to have kept up with the gossip. He was pretty sure he knew to whom he was speaking. 

“Captain … Emerson, isn’t it?”

Emerson stared at him for a moment, before he shrugged. “Emerson for the moment anyway. Don’t suppose he’ll want me to hang onto his name. Don’t want my own back either. What do women do when they get divorced?”

The phone beeped and Elyan thought he could almost sense the desperation in the sound.

“I think if he’s trying this hard to get hold of you, then he’s obviously worried.”

“He’s better off without me – they both are.” Emerson turned bleary eyes on Elyan. “What kind of man is too scared to hold his own son?”

 _A shattered man_ , Elyan wanted to say, feeling his sympathy for them both sweep over him. Dave was right. Even after a few moments watching Emerson and talking to him, all his instincts were telling him this man was damaged and needed help. A proud man, though, Elyan considered, and wondered about the best way to help him.

The phone beeped.

Elyan fought the urge to reach out and put the man at the other end of the call out of his misery.

“Maybe you should let him know you’re okay? What’s his name?”

“Merlin. My Merlin. Loved him the first time I saw him; love him, always will love him. Have to let him go. He can be happy with someone else. Someone not… like me.”

The phone rang again and Elyan glanced at the screen. “That’s your Dad calling now, shouldn’t you answer it?” He wondered at the way Emerson flushed and then abruptly grabbed the phone, switching it off and slipping it into his pocket.

“They can’t want me. Why should they?”

Elyan sat in silence, stymied by the utter hopelessness in Emerson’s voice and watched as another glass of the watered whisky was thrown back. Even his own understanding of what the man was experiencing didn’t equip Elyan with the skills and knowledge needed here.

With a quiet word to Dave to get him if Emerson showed any sign of leaving, he slipped into the office and picked up the phone, sighing in relief when it was answered.

“Leon, I need your help. I’m fine, I promise. There’s a guy in the bar, though. I know I shouldn’t ask but you’re the best and he’s in trouble.”

 

**

 

Leon McAllister could be forgiven for feeling slightly grumpy as he entered Elyan’s bar. He’d been happily ensconced on his sofa with his heavily pregnant wife ready to watch the next instalment of the drama series they’d both been hooked on when Elyan called.

Still, he slipped into professional mode when he caught Elyan’s grateful expression and followed his gesticulating arm to the man slumped against the bar. With a nod of acknowledgement, he walked across and sat down next to him. Elyan joined them.

“Hey, Leon, good to see you.”

“Elyan, you’re looking well,” Leon cast a swift, appraising glance over Elyan and was pleased with what he saw. “Who’s your friend?”

“This is Captain Emerson. Just back from Afghanistan. Captain Emerson, this is Professor Leon McAllister – he helped me sort myself out when I got back.”

Emerson stared blearily at him, mouth turned down. “Don’t need help.”

Leon regarded him mildly. “Who says I’m offering?”

That sparked a sharp laugh. “Everyone wants to help.” Emerson waved his glass at Leon, the action sloshing the liquid out and down the sides. Emerson looked at it in surprise, then down at his trembling hands.

Leon spoke softly to Elyan. “I can’t help him when he’s in this state. Does he have family?”

“There’s a husband and a father at least – they’ve been trying to contact him, but he won’t answer. Reading between the lines I think there’s been a fight – he was talking about divorce earlier anyway.”

“Okay, give me a minute.” He stepped out of Emerson’s hearing range and fished out his phone to have a short conversation with his wife. When he was done, he wandered back to the bar. 

“So, Captain – do you have somewhere to stay tonight? Because I think Elyan and Dave are just about to cut you off.”

That got him another bleary look. “You trying to pick me up, Leon? Imma married man.” A spasm of something terrible passed across his features. “Merlin.”

“I don’t think my wife would approve, so no. I do have a spare room, though and you’re welcome to it tonight.”

Emerson slid off the bar stool, which his companions took as an agreement and they walked him out and into the first taxi they found, though the driver didn’t look terribly happy about the state Emerson was in and pointed to the notice regarding extra cost for cleaning if he was sick.

Leon nodded in agreement, accepted Elyan’s grateful thanks cheerfully because – despite the break in his delightfully planned evening – he was glad Elyan had had the sense to call him.

Throughout the journey Emerson, or Arthur as he now insisted Leon call him, kept up a rambling monologue about how wonderful Merlin was; how much they’d loved one another; how happy they’d been. By the time they made it to Leon’s home, he already felt deeply invested in the idea of helping this sick young man.

Arthur finally broke down when he took one look at Morgana, glowing in her pregnancy. Arthur clapped his hands across his mouth to keep in the strangled sounds of anguish. Leon hurried him past, sharing a worried look with his wife, and he took Arthur up to the spare room, ignoring the distress for the time being. Impersonally, he found nightclothes and let Arthur change in private, giving him a few moments to pull himself together. He talked briefly to Morgana. They were both psychiatrists and he was grateful to be able to discuss what was happening and get her insights.

Eventually, he tapped on the door of the spare room, placing a jug of water and a glass on the side table, and digging out some towels. “Try and drink some water and get some rest, okay.”

Arthur nodded. His eyelids were heavy and he seemed less drunk. “We used to laugh all the time,” he said out of nowhere. “People always think I’m stuffy but Merlin makes – made – me laugh. I don’t think I’ll ever laugh again.” 

Leon watched as wet eyelashes closed and Arthur slipped into an uneasy dose. Once he was sure Arthur was asleep, he raided the pockets of the discarded trousers for Arthur’s phone and switched it on. He left the room and waited for the slew of notifications to finish, and then jotted down the two names and numbers he wanted.

Taking a deep breath, he picked up his own phone and dialled.

It was picked up on the first ring, as if the person had been sitting with it in his hand.

“Is that Merlin Emerson?”

“Yes?”

“First thing’s first – Arthur is fine.”

“Oh, thank God. Where is he? Should I come?”

It took Leon time to calm the man down and to explain who he was and encourage Merlin to wait; to give Leon the chance to talk to Arthur when he surfaced in the morning. Merlin provided some of the background and Leon was impressed by the amount of research Merlin had obviously done and managed too, to begin to address Merlin’s own feelings of guilt and inadequacy before he ended the call, leaving Merlin to contact Arthur’s Dad.

Then Leon wandered upstairs to check on his unexpected guest. In sleep, Arthur looked impossibly young and Leon wondered what it would take for all the old men in the world to get together and decide not to send their young to war.

 

**

**Epilogue  
After**

Arthur tensed as his daughter squealed and he watched carefully as she chased Joshua around the great chestnut tree that was offering them shade. He relaxed. Joshua was a kind boy and was wonderful with his little sister. He’d look after her. His attention was grabbed by Merlin, who was staring at him with a fond smile.

“Plenty of people keeping an eye out, Arthur. Don’t worry.”

It wasn’t the first such reminder from Merlin and wouldn’t be the last. Arthur shrugged and smiled in response, but never explained. Instead he glanced round at the picnic site and acknowledged Merlin’s point. Besides themselves, Leon and Morgana were with their brood, the youngest of the four in Leon’s arms being fed while Morgana had her outrageous sunglasses perched on the top of her head and was yelling advice to Isabel as she tried to catch Joshua. Gwaine had finally settled down and looked more content than Arthur had ever seen him. He was sitting with his arms around Elena, their joined hands resting on her swollen belly. 

 

Merlin had been awkward around Gwaine for some time until Gwaine had finally cracked. “Oh, for fuck’s sake, Merlin, go back to pretending again, you’re doing my head in.” 

Merlin had sworn back and thrown something at him and things had been much easier ever since. If occasionally Arthur caught Gwaine’s eyes lingering on Merlin, he never remarked on it and they all operated in a determined state of blissful ignorance.

Arthur thought how much healthier it was for them to have a wider group of friends rather than it being Arthur and Merlin as a couple, and Gwaine tacked on at the side. Elyan had become a friend, too and through him they had met his sister Gwen and her husband Lance. Their two girls were now scrambling up to join Isabel in her chase. Joshua was the oldest of the group of children and was most definitely in charge. For a few moments Arthur revelled in just watching his friends and family as he thought about the intervening years.

The breakdown ten years before hadn’t so much been a breakthrough as a starting point. Arthur thanked his lucky stars that he’d ended up in the care of one of the foremost experts of PTSD in ex-combatants in the world and after several long conversations with Merlin, the Army and Agravaine, Leon had agreed to take Arthur as a patient.

It had taken a long time and there were plenty of times when Arthur had just wanted to give up. He’d never be the man he was, but at least he’d finally learned to laugh again.

Over time, Leon had helped him face his demons, and even if he’d never ever told anyone all the details of what had happened to him, he'd offered enough to let Leon help him. It wasn't just coming to terms with it all, it was about learning to live again, too. He’d had to build a new relationship with Merlin and his son before he could look to the future when Merlin broached the possibility of another child. Isabel was five now and had brought joy to them all. Joshua loved being an older brother, too, and both Merlin and Arthur enjoyed watching them together.

He was startled out of his reverie by excited squeals and when he followed the sound he saw the children all running helter skelter towards Agravaine and Helen. Merlin stood up and then reached out a hand to pull Arthur to his feet but held him back for a moment.

“Okay, love?” Merlin’s voice was soft.

“Yes,” Arthur grinned as he realised it was true, and he reached forward to kiss Merlin softly. “I think I’m finally back.”

 

Fin


End file.
